


Come Inside (and Stay Forever)

by lilbluednacer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Declarations Of Love, Drabble, F/M, Lydia objects to Stiles marrying anyone who isn't her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12584524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbluednacer/pseuds/lilbluednacer
Summary: "Because I was the first girl you ever danced with and I want to be your last. I want to be the person who counts your fingers when you wake up from a nightmare and I want to be there to help you pick out a new car when your Jeep finally croaks and I want to go on double dates with you and Allison and Scott. There are so many things that I never knew I wanted until I opened up that envelope and I saw her name next to yours."





	Come Inside (and Stay Forever)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writergirl8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8/gifts).



> Rachel requested a drabble where Stiles is about to get married and Lydia objects right before his wedding, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to write Stiles in a tuxedo.

Lydia makes it all the way to the door of the study before she hesitates, one hand on the knob. She could walk away, right now, sneak back down the stairs and out the back door, run to her car and drive back to her apartment. No one would have to know she was even here.

She thinks of that stupid sentimental Robert Frost poem, the one about two paths diverging in a wood, and has to take a brief moment to wonder if this is really what she's going to do, if she's really going to do this, here, right now.

She steels herself and turns the knob. _No guts, no glory, Martin_ , she tells herself.

Stiles is across the room, standing by the window, his back to her, wearing a tuxedo, undone tie loose around his neck. The late afternoon light is slanting over his hair, turning it five different shades of chestnut brown and he's beautiful like this, head turned slightly in profile, broad shoulders in a snowy white dress shirt.

Lydia shuts the door with a soft click and exhales. He jumps at the sound, nearly crashing into the desk as he turns around to face her, his mouth dropping open in shock. "Lydia?"

She takes a small step towards him, wiping her clammy palms on her bare thighs. She's wearing denim cutoffs and a coral colored tank top, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun because she couldn't bear to get dressed up for this, she isn't even supposed to be here.

"Lydia," he says again. "What are you doing here?"

Suddenly she's afraid that if she opens her mouth to speak she's going to cry, but he asked her a question and he deserves an answer. "Hi Stiles."

He blinks a few times, looking stunned. "I thought you weren't coming."

She swallows past the lump in her throat. "Do you have a minute?"

He shoots her an incredulous look. " _Now?_ "

"Please," she says softly, hating the way her voice wavers. 

He shoves a hand through perfectly gelled hair and she winces, resisting the urge to reach out and fix it. "I'm a little busy right now Lydia."

"I know." She can't help the desperation that leaks into her tone. "I just - I need to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about," he mutters.

"Stiles, that's not true. I - please, just let me explain why."

He shakes his head, like he can't believe she's doing this. "You came to my wedding to tell me why you're not coming to my wedding?"

"I came here because I care about you."

He squints at her. "No offense, but you've got a funny way of showing it."

"Stiles." Her hands clasp together, fingernails digging into her palms because she can't cry, she's not going to cry. "You're my best friend."

His face softens, dissolving into a sympathy she doesn't want. "Lydia."

"I know I - haven't exactly been supportive lately," she admits. "And I'm - I'm sorry about that."

Her voice cracks and Stiles rushes forward, looking concerned. Lydia backs up, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay. "I don't want it to be this way," she says thickly. "Stiles you know that, I just" -

"What, Lydia? There are a hundred people downstairs waiting for a wedding to happen, so what, what was so important that you had to show up here right before I got married?" He's not yelling but he's tense, face etched with worry.

He must think she's lost her mind, showing up like this. Maybe she has.

She takes a deep breath and tries to collect her thoughts. "You're my best friend," she says again. "You've always been there for me. You stuck by me during that whole mess with Jackson. You were the only one who understood how hard things were when I was at MIT. You've always - you've always been there for me, and I'm trying to be here for you too but I can't do it, I can't sit out there in some expensive dress I'll never wear again and watch you marry her, Stiles, I'm sorry, but I can't do it."

"Why not?" he demands. "You came all the way here just for that? I deserve a reason Lydia, I deserve to know why you refused to come to my wedding."

"Because I was the first girl you ever danced with and I want to be your last." Her eyes fill with tears and she tilts her head back so they don't spill over. "I want to be the person who counts your fingers when you wake up from a nightmare and I want to be there to help you pick out a new car when your Jeep finally croaks and I want to go on double dates with you and Allison and Scott. There are so many things that I never knew I wanted until I opened up that envelope and I saw her name next to yours."

She's definitely crying now, traitorous tears clinging to her eyelashes. Stiles is staring at her, so close he could wrap his arms around her if he wanted. "Lydia, what are you saying?"

She exhales and it comes out like a sob. "I'm saying that I can't watch the man I'm in love with get married to someone else."

Stiles shuts his eyes and presses the heels of his hands over them. "Lydia," he says hoarsely. "You can't do this."

"I know." She inhales hard and flicks tears away with her fingertips. "I just, I needed you to know, before you - I couldn't let you do this without telling you how I felt."

Stiles lets out a horrible grating laugh and rubs his eyes. "This isn't fair."

"I know"-

"No, Lydia, you don't know! I - had a ten year plan to get you to fall in love with me. I've had a crush on you since the _third grade_. And you knew, you _knew_ how I felt, and you never said anything to me, you had so many opportunities and now you're telling me that you're in love with me _half an hour_ before I'm supposed to get married?"

She flinches, leaning back against the door. "I know. I know, but I had to tell you. You deserved to know, I couldn't let you walk down the aisle not knowing how I felt. That wouldn't have been fair either."

He huffs out a sigh and then he's leaning forward, boxing her in with his arms. "So what? You thought you'd just show up here and I'd ditch everyone? Run out of my own wedding for you?"

"That makes me sound horrible," she whispers, her cheeks flushing with shame.

"You're not horrible," he murmurs. 

His face is only inches away from hers and he's staring down at her in wonder, disbelief, so close and yet so far and she has to do something, she can't just _stand_ here. Lydia rises on the balls of her feet and presses her lips to his and for a few brief seconds she's drowning in warmth, his lips caressing hers, before Stiles breaks the kiss and pulls away.

I can't do this with you," he mutters, stepping back and staring resolutely at the floor. "I have - I have to go, they're going to be looking for me."

Every molecule in her body goes ice cold. "What?"

"Lydia, I can't just"-

"It's fine." Tears roll down her cheeks and she brushes them away angrily. "I shouldn't have come here, this was a mistake."

She turns to open the door and stops when his hand closes over her elbow. "I thought Lydia Martin didn't make mistakes," he says in a low voice, the one she thinks about at night when she's all alone with her hand between her legs.

She looks back at him and forces herself to give him a smile. "I really just want you to be happy," she says, her vision blurred by her tears. "I hope she makes you happy."

"Lydia," he starts, but she doesn't hear anything else he says because she's leaving, running through the hallway and down the back set of stairs.

She lets herself out the back door and flies across the grass, her feet kicking up dirt as she runs down to the street where she parked her car. She unlocks it and wrenches the door open, flings herself into the car and sobs. She pounds open fists against the steering wheel, gasping for breath until her tears finally run dry. She turns the key in the ignition with shaking fingers, shifts into drive and peels away from the street.

She can't handle going home to her apartment, another reminder that she's all alone, that she let Stiles slide right by her, waited so long she didn't know what she was feeling until it was too late to do anything about it except humiliate herself in front of him and try to break up his wedding. She drives aimlessly, a fresh wave of tears coming as she watches the minutes tick by on the dashboard digital clock. Now Stiles is walking down the aisle, now Stiles is reciting his vows, now Stiles is kissing his bride.

Now Stiles is married.

She stops at a liquor store on her way home and buys a bottle of whiskey - normally she hates it, the bitterness, the burn in her throat, but it's what she wants right now. Punishment that glows in the light like his amber eyes.

By the time she gets home her throat is dry and her eyes are red and puffy, all her mascara cried off. She parks on the street outside her building, turns off the car and sits there for a minute - her head aches from crying and her chest hurts, his rejection a pulsing cramp where her heart used to be. She drags herself out of the car, whiskey bottle in its paper bag clutched between her fingers. She locks the car and starts up the sidewalk, keys dangling from her fingertips.

"Hey." 

She snaps her head up. There's a young man in a tuxedo sitting on the front stoop of her building, no tie or jacket, looking exhausted, like he's been sitting here for hours.

Lydia stares at him, fingers digging into the metal of her key ring. "What - what are you doing here?"

Stiles stretches and stands up, rubbing his eyes. "We're not done talking."

"You got married, what is there to talk about?" she says snidely, before she can stop herself.

Stiles shakes his head. "No, I didn't. I've been waiting here for hours, where were you?"

"I went for a drive to clear my head - wait, _what?_ " Lydia glances down at his left hand and there it is, the confirmation she's looking for - no ring.

"Yeah, that didn't happen. Obviously." Stiles leans his head against the doorframe. "After you ran away from me"-

"I didn't run away from you." Stiles raises a sharp eyebrow and Lydia sighs guiltily.

"After you _ran away from me_ I went downstairs and we - she and I talked, for a long time. About how maybe we rushed into this. Marriage. And how we really shouldn't get married if either of us are having doubts. And then I said..." Stiles rolls his neck, shadows under his eyes that weren't there earlier. "That it wasn't right for me to get married when I loved someone else."

The brick in Lydia's chest dissolves. "You - what?"

He reaches for her and she goes willingly, pressing her face into that hollow of his throat right above his collarbone. His hand comes up to wrap around the base of her neck and Lydia whimpers helplessly, clutching onto his hip with her free hand. "Stiles."

"I know," he mumbles, bending down to kiss the top of her head. "I know, everything's a mess, I literally just broke up with my fiancé and we really shouldn't just"-

"Come inside," she blurts out.

He gets a finger under her chin and tips her head up so she has to look at him. "Yeah?" he asks softly.

She nods, reaching past him to swipe her keycard to unlock the front door of her building. "We'll figure it out," she whispers. "We always do."

He gives her a gentle smile. "Yeah, we do."

One last final act of bravery - Lydia holds out her hand and watches as Stiles takes it firmly, no hesitation, and follows her inside.


End file.
